How Dreams Die
by Perfect-Skye
Summary: Lies. They were obviously all lies. When Makoto is accused of assaulting one of his students, Haru rushes home. He knows Makoto can take care of himself, he just doesn't know if he will. This is a working title - subject to change. Trigger Warning for Chapter 3 - More information within.
1. Chapter 1

Haru pulled himself out of the warm-up pool half an hour before the first heat would race in the 100 meter free qualifier. His muscles stretched and in top condition, he headed towards the locker room, wrapping his towel around his neck.

He sighed at the incessant chatter that filled the room as he slowly spun the numbers on his lock to the combination he'd used for as long as he can remember – _1117_. People used to question why he always brought his own lock with him, instead of renting one from whatever world-class pool they were racing in. Honestly? It was troublesome to try to remember a new number every time, this was easier.

Digging through his bag, he let a smile slip through his usual mask of indifference as his hand closed around the small, cool rectangle of plastic. He'd gotten better at packing his cell phone – especially on race days.

Pulling the phone out of his bag, his smile grew at the familiar _buzz _of vibration that told him he had a message waiting for him. His thumb slid gently over the side of the phone to press the power button, eagerly awaiting the short but no less heart-felt wish of luck from his best friend.

The smile slid from his face just slightly – completely unnoticeable by anyone but the boy in question – when, instead of the text message notification he expected, the voicemail icon flashed up at him.

Makoto _never_ called him this close to a big race. His friend had a tendency to get caught up in conversation when Haru had been away for this long. While comforting to both of them, it made Makoto feel guilty – telling Haru he should be mentally preparing for the race instead of wasting his time listening to Makoto natter on about nothing. Despite constant protests, consisting mostly of Haru telling Makoto to stop being an idiot, the larger boy stuck to text messages the day of a race.

He hit dial and waited impatiently until the feminine voice prompted him to punch in his password. _1117_ – Concerned about security, Haru was not.

"_Ohayou Haru-chan!"_ Haru breathed out a sigh of relief he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. His friend's voice sounded fine, if a bit tinny, through the speaker of his phone. _"I was just calling to wish you good luck today, although I know you don't really need it!"_ Makoto's small chuckle followed that statement and Haru could almost picture the sheepish smile that would be on the boy's face and the hand that would be rubbing the back of his neck. _"I'll try to catch your heat during break but if I miss it don't tell me how it goes. You're so bad with spoilers Haru-Chan! My mom's taping the event for me so I'll text you when I watch it."_ The silence that followed was so long that Haru almost ended the call then and there, thinking the message was over. Still, something stilled his finger and, after a full minute of silence; _"I hope your dream is turning out the way you hoped it would," _followed by the click of a disconnected call and the overly sweet voice of the answering machine woman.

By now the smile had completely left Haru's face, replaced by a slight frown and a line of confusion between his brows. The voice had seemed fine, so why did Haru still feel like something was very wrong with his best friend? It could be his own nerves over the race, it could be he missed home, it could be any number of things. It could even be nothing, although Haru sincerely doubted it.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to focus on the race with all these questions, Haru pulled up the web browser on his phone. Time for some research.

His time in Tokyo for university had scarcely prepared Haru for life as a professional athlete. He loved swimming, and he even loved travelling around the world for tournaments, but he often regretted how much he missed back home in Iwatobi. Knowing, in the way that only Makoto knows, the younger boy had set Haru's homepage to that of the local newspaper. '_So you can keep up'_ he'd said, smiling.

Haru scrolled through the first few results, just glancing at the headlines. Kendo at Iwatobi High had made nationals, big-box store was denied opening. Then, halfway down the page, a headline that stole all breath and warmth from him.

'_**Local Coach Fired Amidst Assault Allegations**_

_Tachibana Makoto, coach for the swim team at Iwatobi High, has been fired and banned from school premises in light of claims that the newly elected coach has been having sexual relations with at least one of his underage pupils_.'

The article went on but Haru couldn't force his mind into reading any more.

_Lies._

Obviously it was all lies. Haru could hardly breathe.

"Oh God, Makoto." Why hadn't he said anything? They had just spoken two nights ago and the boy had said _nothing. _Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had talked about Ran's soccer game, about Ren's science project that had blown up in his parent's kitchen, about the postcard he'd received from Rei and Nagisa. Nothing about what was going on in his own life, nothing to clue Haru into just how much his life must be swirling down the toilet.

"Nanase, your heat's up next"

_No_. He wasn't ready to race – he could still hardly breathe. He wasn't supposed to be here, in this brightly lit pool with the noise of a crowd bouncing off the walls and windows. _No._ He was supposed to be home.

He beat his best time that day, by almost 3 seconds. It was a personal best, and a tournament best too. Everyone was congratulating him. Telling him his hard work was paying off. How could he tell them that all he could think about during the race was how the faster he finished, the faster he could leave? He was supposed to be home.

**AN:**

So, I am very much out of my element here. This is a little head-cannon I've developed and, after talking to my husband about it, was encouraged to get down on paper, so to speak. I haven't really written much recently, and I don't usually write something this dramatic. I have a few ideas on how this will go but If you're interested in helping me round out the story, I would be completely thrilled! Constructive criticism is always appreciated – whether it be about this chapter or future ones.

Just FYI, this will be a _very_ slow-build (Read: Bang-Your-Head-Against-a-Wall Slow) romance. It will, more than likely, contain no smut, a little violence, a few triggers and fair amount of Hurt/Comfort. Hope that's okay!

P.S. Bonus points to anyone who figures out Haru's password and locker combo!


	2. Chapter 2

Haru had never fully understood the term "Red-Eye Flight" until he set foot on Japanese soil the next morning. He hadn't slept since he had listened to Makoto's voicemail at 10 am – almost 18 hours ago now. The six hour flight from Bangkok to Tokyo had taken its toll on the young man, and he rubbed his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time since boarding the plane – his eyes were certainly red.

It felt like the world was conspiring against him. Every little thing reminded him of Makoto. Kid's screaming and fighting in the airport lounge? Makoto would have looked so pained and ultimately would have gone over to calm them down and keep them entertained. The flight attendant's wavering smile as the man in seat K10 complained loudly that there wasn't enough legroom by the window? That would have Makoto offering to switch seats – even though he had at least 6 inches on the man.

The guy didn't have an evil bone in his body.

It made the allegations even more ridiculous - anyone who _knew_ Makoto would know they were full of shit. Haru had downloaded all the articles he could find onto his phone and spent most of the day reading and re-reading them, getting angrier and angrier. Whoever was behind this was going to have hell to pay if Haru ever got a hold of them.

All the articles had said basically the same thing. The claims that Makoto had been harassing a few of his students had started about two weeks back. Text messages, cornering them after practice, and eventually leading up to the assault of one of the students. All names of sources had been withheld, but the news seemed to suggest that only one student had come forward – and not the victim. No quotes from the victim, no defense from Makoto. So much for responsible journalism.

It seemed as though Makoto had been refusing comment, and his family were taking his lead. Haru had his fair share of dealings with the press – people trying to wrap him up in scandals he couldn't be bothered with. 'No comment' had been one of the first phrases he sought out in any language when going to a new country. It worked for him, but unfortunately, he didn't think it was working so well for Makoto. This was a scandal the boy couldn't unwrap himself from, and he wasn't helping his case by keeping quiet.

The tables had really turned – He would have to coach Makoto in communication! If Haru hadn't been so frustrated he would have laughed, he sighed instead.

There was still the 2 hour bus ride from Tokyo to Iwatobi. It would give him time to think about what he would say to his friend, how he would breach the subject.

"Tadaima" Haru mumbled to no one as he dropped his backpack in the front hall of his family's home. The house had been empty for almost a month and a fine layer of dust had collected on the floor and furniture. He absentmindedly ran his finger along the top of the shoe rack as he removed his runners and grabbed a pair of slippers. He scowled as he banged them together, clouds of dust glimmering in the early morning light.

He looked at his watch, 7:30 am. Still too early for Makoto to be at the Swim Club. He walked to the kitchen, pulled a pack of mackerel from freezer, and set it beside the grill to thaw. He set a water-filled pot on the stove for rice and stood there staring at the pot, lost in thought.

'_You know what they say Haru-chan, a watched pot never boils!_'

Haru jerked out of his thoughts and cast a quick glance around, fully expecting to see Makoto there smiling at him. He scoffed at himself and stepped away from the stove to put his bag away in his room.

Just looking at his bed made Haru want to crawl under the blankets and forget about the world for a few hours but he knew that if he gave into that temptation he wouldn't be getting up for a while. Besides, he was supposed to be an adult now. He'd made a promise to himself after his first and only fight with Makoto that he wouldn't hide from his problems anymore but face them head on, and that's what he had to do – for both of them.

He reluctantly returned to the kitchen and placed the mackerel on the grill, the _sizzle_ familiar and comforting. In minutes, the food was ready and he plated up a portion and settled at the kotatsu.

'_You really should eat something other than mackerel every once in a while.'_

Haru sighed, his chop sticks paused halfway to his lips. Honestly. If he didn't confront his best friend soon these constant auditory hallucinations were going to drive him crazy.

It was 9 o'clock by the time Haru stepped through the front door of the Iwatobi Swim Club. The receptionist, Haru couldn't remember her name, greeted him warmly.

"If you're here for Makoto, he just started an adult class. You can swim laps if you want or just wait for him in the lounge. He should be done around 9:30."

Haru turned sharply and offered a rare smile to the scruffy man who had spoken from behind him. "Sasabe-Coache, I think I'll wait from the viewing room if that's alright."

"That's fine Haru, good to see you again." The old coach laid a hand on Haru's shoulder as he passed him on the way to the staff offices behind the reception counter. He paused briefly, leaning against the counter as he watched Haru walk off with single-minded purpose.

It didn't take long for Haru to find Makoto. His height and his smile made the guy stand out like a sore thumb. He was standing along the sides of the pool in the Iwatobi coach uniform, goggles hanging around his neck. Haru peered at him suspiciously. He _looked_ fine, but Haru knew better than anyone that Makoto was great at hiding the things that would worry others.

Haru sat in the bench seat closest to Makoto's group and placed his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Just under thirty minutes and he still had no idea what he was going to say.

He shouldn't have been concerned about searching for the words, this was Makoto. They had long ago passed the need for speech with one another.

Makoto's smile brightened as he noticed Haru walking calmly into the pool area after his lesson had ended. He rushed towards his friend, congratulations and greetings on his lips.

"Okaeri, Haru-Chan! Congra-" his words trailed off as he saw the look Haru was fixing him with. He saw the look and he knew that Haru knew. The bright grin lost its shine and was replaced by the sad little smile that Haru was all too familiar with, the one that hid the pain that only showed in his friends eyes.

"N-not here, okay Haru? Let's… Let's just go, okay?" the broken sound of Makoto's voice hurt.

Oh yes, whoever was behind this was going to have hell to pay.

**AN**

So, sorry about the wait. Hopefully this chapter will tide you over for a bit – it's slightly longer than the last one! Next chapter should be quite a bit longer as there's a lot I have planned for it. It should also (hopefully) be out quicker as I'm really excited about it, we finally get to hear Makoto's side of the story!

Thanks to all the people who favourited (Showing my true Canadian Colours here aren't I?) this story and followed it.

_sktrgrl13 – _I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Next chapter is going to make you want to kill me I'm sure but just know that I love Makoto more than feels appropriate considering he's a fictional character. Also, bonus points for you as the combo is indeed Makoto's birthdate! (Nov. 17) I figured that, as Haru would probably try to remember his best friend's birthday, it was something he would have memorized already.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **I've been trying to avoid putting one of these at the beginning of the chapter, but in this case, it's necessary. There is a trigger warning for this chapter. When it gets to that point in the story there will be a **bold **line of text indicating what the trigger is for and how to avoid reading it if you so wish. Carry on!

Haru could count on one hand the times where the silence between him and his best friend had been awkward, and every time he hated it.

After asking one of his co-workers to cover his afternoon lesson, Makoto had invited Haru to join him for lunch at his new apartment. Those were the last words his friend had spoken aloud to him. They walked in oppressive silence towards an area of town that was shockingly unfamiliar to Haru. Iwatobi was a relatively small town, by Japanese standards, but there were still little pockets hidden away from the main roads. Pockets that you'd really rather avoid unless you had no other choice. Makoto, usually so animated, hung his head, not meeting Haru's gaze. Haru took advantage of his friend's inattention to study him closer.

There were faint, dark circles around the young man's eyes and frown lines showing at the corners of his mouth. Haru could imagine them disappearing the moment that same mouth broke into a smile. No one would ever notice these little signs then – Makoto was quite practiced at faking smiles.

Haru sighed, knowing that he was going to get nothing from Makoto until they reached wherever they were headed. At this thought, Haru took a closer look at his surroundings. The buildings in the area seemed a little neglected. Weeds sprouted up between cracks in paving stones, windowsills peeled slightly – their old colours showing through. There was a silence here that proved that this was a neighbourhood where both parents had to work and children spent their days at school or daycare. It wasn't as run-down as some of the places Haru had seen in his travels, but it saddened him to think of Makoto - bright, cheerful, friendly Makoto – living in this tired place.

"This is me," Makoto mumbled as he stepped up to the door of an uninspiring apartment building.

Haru flinched: whether from the unexpected sound of Makoto's voice or the depressing ulterior meaning behind those three words, he didn't know. If Haru were asked to picture where his friend of 19 years should be living, he would picture something like the young man's family home – not large but full of life and warmth and character. This grey, stone rectangle with eye-like windows peering down at Haru blankly would be the furthest thing from his mind. This was _not_ Makoto.

The interior was as tidy and bland as the building had looked from the outside. The wallpaper wasn't peeling and the hall didn't smell like smoke, but the place still had a slum-like feel to it that set Haru on edge. He followed Makoto to a narrow stairwell and focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he climbed the steps, gritting his teeth as he watched his 6'3" friend stoop to avoid hitting his head on a low bulkhead at each landing. When they finally reached the fourth floor, Haru felt like he was physically fighting the desire to drag his friend out of this place as fast as he could manage, and he hadn't even seen the apartment itself.

Makoto led him to apartment 403, and his stomach dropped as he took in the sight of the door. There were a few patches of fresh, slightly miscoloured paint, and places where paint had been scraped off the door entirely – wood like a wound gouged into the door. Something about its state made Haru queasy and inexplicably angry.

Makoto hurriedly unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door wide, welcoming Haru over the threshold.

"Well, this is it." Makoto stated as he watched Haru nervously, "It's not much but it's cheap and close to work."

It wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting. It was small: just the one room and what would appear to be a bathroom in the back corner. There was a tiny kitchen, which Haru knew already his friend barely used, a couch and coffee table, and a double bed hidden behind a partition screen that looked like it had been coloured by Ran and Ren.

"The screen is Ran and Ren's doing." Makoto chuckled, a bit of his personality shining through. "The first time I had my family over the little brats turned up their noses and declared the place boring. Next thing I know my dad is showing up with the thing under one arm and a sarcastic smile on his face. I didn't even know my dad _could_ be sarcastic!"

Haru felt just a touch of the warmth that had left him when he'd first discovered Makoto's secret return. The way the gentle giant's eyes lit up when he talked about his family was as familiar to Haru as anything.

It was just after 10:30 and neither were particularly hungry, so they just stood there for a moment. The silence had become a bit less painful, but it was still a far cry from the usual. Haru looked into Makoto's eyes and opened his mouth to speak. No words would come. _Damnit_! Haru cursed himself. So many questions were speeding through his mind. _What happened? How are you holding up? Have you contacted a lawyer about this?_ And, the one that screamed the loudest: _Why didn't you tell me?!_

All these words, but none would come out.

"Haru-Chan, how about I make us some tea? Then we can talk, okay?" Haru looked away, trying to compose his thoughts, and nodded. He walked stiffly and sat down on the couch, his hands clasped so tightly between his knees that his knuckles were turning white.

He could hear Makoto working in the kitchen, grabbing teacups and setting a kettle on the stove, but couldn't bring himself to look at his friend. There was just too much going on in his head.

Makoto placed a cup of tea in front of Haru and sat down on the floor, back against the sofa. He stared into his own cup, as if expecting it to tell him where to start.

"It's not true Haru, none of it." Haru scoffs and Makoto looks up at him. '_Well, duh'_ written so clearly on Haru's face that Makoto couldn't help but laugh. "But I guess you knew that, didn't you?" Haru waited in silence for his friend to continue.

"About two months ago, one of my students, Toma, came to me and asked if I would be willing to sit in on a meeting with him and the school councillor. He's a great kid, and I was worried that something was bothering him, so I agreed. During that meeting, he told me he was gay and begged me to let him stay on the team. I told him he didn't have to worry about that, that he had a place on the team as long as he wanted one." Makoto sighed into his tea, "I told him I would help him – anyway I could."

"I started going with him to his meetings every week. After four sessions, the councillor and I had finally convinced him that he should feel comfortable coming out to the team. At the time, I thought the bonds between them were strong enough - that they would all be supportive." Another sigh, "I was wrong"

"One of the third years, Yuta, took it poorly. He started hazing Toma – hiding his things and pushing him around when I wasn't looking. I only noticed that something was wrong on our first practice back in the pool. Yuta refused to let Toma into the change room, telling him to change in the girl's room. When it came time to swim, Yuta wouldn't get in the water. He said he didn't want to catch 'fag cuties'."

At this Haru snapped his gaze back to Makoto and all but growled in his throat.

Makoto looked up at him, "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too. I told Yuta to leave the pool, that he was off the team until he could actually act like a team member. He didn't even blink, just stood there staring back at me. I snapped. I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him to the change room. I told him to get out of my sight before I brought him to face the head of the school. He just glared at me, turned on his heel, and stormed off."

"I thought that would be the end of it. The rest of the team were as supportive as I thought they would be and I honestly believed that Yuta would cool off, apologize, and be back on the team in no time."

"A few days later Yuta approached me on my walk home from the club. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that if I didn't let him back on the team he would tell the school that I had been sexually harassing my students. I was shocked. It took me a few minutes to recover, but when I did I told him that he should do whatever he felt he had to. I told him that he couldn't blackmail me into letting him back on the team. I said that I have a responsibility to protect my students, and what good am I as a coach if I put myself before my team?"

Haru continued to stare at his best friend, who lifted his teacup to his lips with shaky hands.

"I didn't think he'd actually do it."

That damned silence fell again, the one that made Haru want to scream just to prove that he could still hear. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Makoto looked Haru in the eyes for what seemed like a lifetime, trying to read him. "I didn't want to worry you. You had more important things to worry about."

"More – did – did you?" Haru stuttered, so angry that he couldn't get the words out right. He took a deep breath to steady himself and tried again. "Did you seriously fucking say _'more important things'_?" Haru wasn't proud of how his voice raised in volume at the end of his question, but he couldn't help it. "Fuck, Makoto! Do you really believe that?" His friend just stared up at him, a confused frown on his face. "You really think that little of me?"

"W-what? No! Haru-chan, of course not!" Makoto stammered as he pulled himself up of the floor to sit beside Haru on the couch. He received a glare in return. Makoto opened his mouth to speak again when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of them jumped at the sound.

Haru watched as his friend walked toward the door, unlocked it, and swung it open. A short, balding man stood at the threshold. "A-ah! Mizuki-San! Please, come in." Makoto stepped to the side and gestured widely. "Haru, this is Mizuki-san, the landlord here." Haru nodded his greeting, although the man had yet to come inside the apartment.

"I'm sorry, Tachibana-san, but I can't stay. I'm here on behalf of the other tenants. A petition has been signed but 85% of the residents here asking for your eviction. In light of recent news, we are unfortunately going to have to ask you to leave. You will have until the end of the week to move your possessions out, anything that remains will be donated to charity. If you leave your forwarding address with me, I can mail your damage deposit to you. Here is the signed petition as well as a letter outlining the termination of your rental agreement."

Haru hadn't even realized that he had stood up until he was ripping the papers out of the man's hand and slamming the door in his face.

"Haru! That was incredibly rude!" Makoto chastised him, and Haru stared at him in disbelief. Makoto sighed and walked to his kitchen, pulling open a drawer by the sink and rummaging through it.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Looking for a pad of paper and pen. I'll have to write a to do list so I don't forget anything. Call my parents and make sure my old room's still free. I'll need boxes too, I wonder if the book store will have any I can take? I'll have to call and ask. Ah-ha!" Makoto pulled out a yellow legal pad from the drawer and a black marker followed. "These will do."

"How in the world are you so calm?" The ability to move had finally returned to Haru, and he used it to take a few steps closer to his friend.

"Well it's not like I could have afforded this place on one salary anyways," Haru just gaped at him, Makoto's calm was starting to scare him. "I would have had to move out sooner or-"

_Slap._

Again, Haru hadn't realised he was moving until he felt his hand connect solidly with his best friends face.

Makoto's eyes got wide and the pad of paper fell to the ground – the clatter of his pen rolling across the linoleum floor as loud as thunder in the silence between them.

**TRIGGER WARNING: PANIC / ANXIETY ATTACK. To skip the passage that contains this trigger please search the page by using either 'Ctrl+F' for PC users or 'Command+F' for Mac users. The term to search is: 'TW01' followed immediately by 'end'. (no spaces)**

Haru grabbed his friend by the shoulders and stared him in the eye. "Makoto…"

Makoto took in a ragged breath and his whole body started to shake. A small, choked sound squeezed its way through Makoto's lips – halfway between a sob and a laugh.

Silence. Not even the sound of breathing, because Makoto hadn't taken a breath since the first. Haru counted the seconds.

1, 2, 3 – Makoto's eyes, still wide, were darting back and forth.

4, 5, 6, 7 – Another choking noise accompanied by a violent tremor.

8, 9, 10…

Haru was starting to feel the edges of panic himself as he shook his best friend as firmly as he could. "Makoto!"

And finally, the young man took in another shuddering breath, so shallow.

"H-haa-haru-cha…" Makoto managed to croak out, a gasp between each attempt at his name.

"It's okay, Makoto. Just – just try to breathe okay?" Haru's grip tightened and Makoto gasped again at the discomfort.

"I-I Ca… I can't breathe… Oh God Haru! I-I C-can't b-breathe!" The taller man's knees buckled, forcing Haru to take almost all of his substantial weight just to lower Makoto to the floor.

"You can, Makoto. Just… maybe… count it out or something? Try to calm yourself down."

"I _can't_ fucking calm down Haru: I can't _breathe_!" Makoto got the entire sentence out in one go, causing yet another heart-clenching choking sound to slip out. The wheeze that followed caused Makoto's entire frame to convulse. Haru knelt in front of his friend on the floor and searched his face desperately. Makoto had all but yelled at him, and he had sworn too. Haru couldn't even begin to comprehend just how bad this panic must feel for Makoto to swear like that. Haru also couldn't comprehend how to help, and it was all he could do to keep _himself_ from panicking.

He noticed immediately when Makoto's gaze started going distant. "Shit! Makoto? Makoto, damn it, stay with me! Look at me, Makoto!" Now Haru was yelling, and he honestly couldn't care less.

"Haru?" another gasp, "Haru, how come I can't feel my fingers?" A giggle. Makoto was looking at him now, which was good, but his eyes were so unfocused and his breathing still sounded painful. A bead of sweat was rolling down Makoto's cheek, and his hair was plastered to his forehead and neck as if he had just come out of the pool. His body was wracked with shivers.

Cold sweats? If only Haru could remember what helped with those. He shifted slightly, trying to think. As he moved out of the way, Makoto slid his legs out fully along the floor and sighed in relief at the coolness of the linoleum against his skin.

Haru's eyes went wide as he dashed to the sink, turning the tap as far to cold as it would go and drenching the washcloth there with water. He dropped to his knees again and slid the last few feet to Makoto's side.

Makoto jerked at the feel of the cold cloth around the back of his neck and let out a groan. Haru was terrified that he had done something wrong until Makoto pressed firmly back into his hand.

From then on Haru worked diligently to cool his friend's skin – neck, arms, face – whatever he could reach. As he worked, Makoto's eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out. Makoto's body slumped and all the tension seemed to run out of him.

It felt like hours, although it was probably only minutes, until Makoto cracked open one eye to peer at Haru. Haru was so focused on his task that he hardly noticed his arms turning to lead as he worked or Makoto observing him through half lidded eyes.

**TW01end**

"Haru-chan?" Haru jumped and pulled his hand away from his friend. Tears started to well up in green eyes and Haru immediately pulled his friend into an embrace. He awkwardly pulled his friend to his feet and over to the couch. Makoto's steps were unsteady and Haru thought that this must be what leading a drunk man feels like. Makoto curled up on the sofa, on his side in a fetal position. His breathing was still heavy but even, as he closed his eyes. Haru stood there watching him as he fell asleep.

Haru moved as far from the obviously exhausted young man as possible without letting him out of his sight and pulled out his cellphone. He had a lot of calls to make.

**AN: **So this author note is going to be a little long and I apologize for that. I would love for this not to have to be said but unfortunately there are people on the internet who like to speak (or type) before they think about the effect it will have on others so I want to cover my bases. (Although I'd like to believe that you are all wonderful and would never do this.)

Panic attacks are incredibly personal – everyone who suffers from extreme anxiety suffers in different ways and finds relief in different ways. That being said, the symptoms and relief Makoto feels is as similar to my own personal experience as I was able to convey through the eyes of a bystander. If you feel like his reactions are in anyway unrealistic or over-dramatic I urge you to please, keep it to yourself. To insinuate that what he is going through in this chapter is in anyway less than genuine is to undermine the struggles of everyone who suffers from anxiety.

If you yourself are struggling, know that you're not alone and that you have my support, and the support of many others. I hope I managed to portray the true reality of panic and anxiety with dignity and the seriousness it deserves.

And, on a lighter note, HOLY MACCARONI BATMAN! This chapter is 3x longer than the last two! Yeah for content! Hopefully this wasn't too painful to get through. Thanks to all those that read, favourited, followed, and/or reviewed. I have few ideas of where I'm going to go next with this but am feeling a bit daunted. If anyone has recommendations on procedural courtroom dramas that I can read to get a feel for how it's done, I would greatly appreciate it!


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